


Zephyr

by CheerUpLovely



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/M, Married Life, Normal Life
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-27
Updated: 2018-04-03
Packaged: 2018-11-19 16:55:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11317692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CheerUpLovely/pseuds/CheerUpLovely
Summary: “Zephyr”(zɛf ər), noun | A gentle, mild breeze. It does not disrupt, nor cause chaos, it merely brings a pleasant sensation on a warm summer day. (via wordsnquotes)Behind the vigilantism, they have to live. A look at our heroes as they go about the more normal moments of their lives.





	1. Taking out the Trash

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to my new series, Zephyr!!  
> We're going to be looking at the most domestic, normal, everyday, downright boring moments of life with Olicity. Still with me? Great, I hope so. Because I've realised that the moments I love writing most are the normal ones, so I'm hoping this can be fun.
> 
> The first prompt:  
> aussieforgood said:You want boring, here's boring. Taking out the trash.

 

“This isn’t going to fit, we need another bag.”

Those words make her stomach drop. They’ve been standing in the kitchen for ten minutes organising and clearing up, neither of them fully focused on what they’re doing, but as soon Oliver says those dreaded words, Felicity just wants to throw it all on the ground and go to bed.

Or finally hire a cleaner. That’s sounding more and more appealing every time they joke about it and quickly talk themselves out of it.

“We don’t have another bag,” she tells him tiredly. “It was the last I could find in the cupboard.”

Oliver looks up from the overpacked trash bag with a look on his face that can only be pure resignation. “I thought we had plenty?”

She shakes her head, leaning her elbow on the counter beside her as her husband’s gaze turns back down to the garbage bag he’s holding open. “I was going to get some tomorrow when I went to the store after work, but I forgot that garbage day moved.”

She’s seen this look on his face before. It’s the look he has when he spends an afternoon downstairs working on his bike only to come upstairs and throw his tools in the closet with far too much force. It’s the look he has when she’s used all the hot water and he’s just finished a ten mile run. It’s the look he has when she opens the bathroom door slightly quicker than he can cover up his real feeling over how long she’s taking to get ready for dinner.

“I don’t know why we can’t just have _one_ garbage day and stick to it,” he sighs.

“I know. Thursday’s were _so_ perfect,” she agrees, mourning the loss of their previous evening schedule. “We could just take the trash out after dinner with Thea, and now…”

“Wednesday’s are not a good garbage day,” he grumbled, shifting the bag in his hands slightly before he sighed again, resting the bottom of the bag back on the kitchen floor with a shake of his head. “I think something has to go back in the trash for next week’s collection.”

Her nose wrinkled up without control. Not just the idea of week-old garbage going back into their trash but also the idea of fishing through said trash for an item that could make the cut. “Isn’t that a bit... _gross_?”

Of course he knows that. This is a man who had never done his own chores growing up, which was one of the benefits of a spoiled rich-boy lifestyle. Felicity has known for quite some time that trash duty is one of the worst household jobs, which is why they’ve decided to conquer this particular chore together.

“Felicity, I don’t think we have any other choice.”

“Ugh, you’re right.” She hops down from the counter, planting her hands on her hips as she assesses the dire situation of the garbage bag just as he had done. “What if you held it down a little and I tied the bag closed?”

Her suggestion is met with an unfair frown. “Why do _I_ have to hold it down?”

“I don’t want to touch the garbage.”

Oliver fixes her with a knowing expression, dragging his eyes slowly down from her to the open bag he’s still holding. “Felicity, half of this bag is food packaging, and I think we both know who ate so many cookies this month.”

“In my defence, those girl scouts really deserved a reward for getting past the doorman of this building.”

“He was probably bribed with cookies. Instead we paid…” He stops, looking back up at her. “How much did we pay?”

“It doesn’t matter,” she says quickly. “You’re all ‘ _I must save the city_ ’ and all those donations stay in the local area, which benefits the community and encourages young girls to develop their skills with decision making and planning and people skills and money management, business ethics…”

“Okay, I get it,” he cuts her off. “Girl scout cookies are worth the investment.”

“I thought that after Wonder Woman you’d be a little more encouraging of girl power,” she points out, after they’d actually made it to a date night last weekend and decided to go see a movie. NIghts off are still rare for them, but they’re trying to find more of a balance. Sadly, chores are part of the balance, but for the most part they’re getting to enjoy married life like a normal married couple. 

Well, their version of normal at least.

“I love girl power. Anyway, we’re getting off topic,” he points out. “We need to take the trash out and we’re running out of options.”

“I thought we’d already run out.”

Not to be deterred, Oliver starts shifting the weight inside the bag and leaning far close to it than Felicity would ever allow her nose to get. She threw away some cheese that was questionable yesterday and she doesn’t want to go anywhere near that again. “Wait, can we recycle this instead?” he asks, nodding his head towards a piece of packaging.

Peering in as much as she’ll allow herself too, she spots the item that she recalls casually brushing aside the evening before, and it must have landed in the trash by mistake. Another reason she shouldn’t be allowed in the kitchen. “Oh, yeah that shouldn’t be in that bag.”

“Can you take it?” he asks. “Then I can fit this in and we’re good.”

Steeling herself, she reaches into the bag and takes out the crushed piece of cardboard and holds it as far away from her as possible. “Is that last night’s spaghetti sauce?”

“Just rinse it off,” Oliver tells her, as she holds it over the sink and quickly lets the water take away the remains of last night’s dinner.

When she’s done, she places the cardboard down with their other items of recycling. “This is the worst job.”

He agrees with a firm nod, as he manages to get the garbage bag closed at last with a tight knot at the top that just might make it down to the dumpster behind their building. “It makes me miss Raisa.”

She misses Raisa too, so she knows when Oliver says that he means it. It’s not really about the household chores though, it’s about the company. Raisa was such a crucial part of his upbringing and he loves her for that, and she’d gotten to witness that firsthand when they got together with her and her family over the last holiday season. “I thought you missed Raisa because of the cookies.”

“Well, we have girl scout cookies now,” Oliver indicates to their still fairly substantial pile of cookies on the kitchen counter. So Felicity has a weak spot for cookies, who cares? There are worse things to be addicted to. “I wouldn’t want to get nostalgic and risk not supporting the future women of Star City.”

He winks at her. She tries not to let that make her stomach flip. She fails. After all this time, he still makes her feel like a teenager in love for the first time. 

“Good answer,” she tells him, leaning up on her tiptoes to plant a kiss on his cheek, “but you’re still taking the bag down to the dumpster.”

He scoffs out a laugh. “I didn’t charm my way out of that one, huh?”

“I did it last week,” she points to the schedule they pinned to the side of the fridge. It’s nothing to laugh at, but when you spend a great deal of your evenings running a base of vigilantes, you can’t always remember when you last cleaned the bathroom or if you have a clean dress for work. “It’s your turn.”

With one arm, he catches her waist and draws her back to him. She smiles when he nudges his nose against hers. “Can I exchange my turn for something else?”

“Oliver, I love you. But no.”

“Just no?” 

“Just no,” she tells him, slipping out of his grasp. “Now hurry up or we’re going to miss Game of Thrones.”

 


	2. Date Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> imusuallyobsessed said: Olicity + "I don't think this counts as a date."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to @intolauren for editing this - I'm so terrible with tenses and you're actually a lifesaver!

“I don’t think this counts as a date.”

Felicity yawns for what she thinks might be the thirteenth time in the last hour. She hasn’t been counting, because that takes effort she doesn’t have the drive for right now, but she’s also not not quite on the verge of falling asleep. Regardless, she stretches lazily, resulting in a satisfying press of her body against Oliver’s as she lies between him and the back of the couch. “Of course it does, it’s date night.”

His hand doesn’t falter on the gentle movement up and down her spine, the same action he’s been repeating for the last half hour at least and it only makes her less reluctant to get up from her comfortable spot with her cheek on his shoulder and her arm flung over his stomach. “This doesn’t exactly fit date rules though,” he points out.

“Since when did we make rules about dates?” she asks, shifting slightly so that she can see his face. His eyes are closed with his head propped up on the arm of the couch. She loves these moments where he’s so peaceful and allows her to be a part of that. “I didn’t know we had requirements to meet.”

“I thought we were going out for dinner.”

Ah, yes, dinner. Friday night is supposed to be dinner night, has been for the last year. This is the first time that they haven't gone to Antonio’s; it's their favourite restaurant and they are sticking to it. They’ve had their time experimenting with various cuisines around the world, and now they want their penne arrabiata and lasagna on a Friday night, and they want it with a side of garlic bread and some mozzarella in breadcrumbs. 

“I know, but do you really have the energy to go upstairs and get changed for dinner?” She poses the question.

He thinks about it, she knows he does, she can tell. She knows he’s picturing going upstairs and choosing between the charcoal grey suit and the navy blue suit, and that he’ll look towards his black suit whilst knowing he saves that for formal occasions only. He’s picturing her hinting towards the blue bringing out his eyes and choosing that one, and choosing a tie, and shoes, and then getting dressed, getting his coat, calling a cab and...

“.........no,” he settles eventually.

“Exactly,” she murmurs in agreement, settling back into her comfortable position. “ _ This _ is a date.”

“We haven’t spoken for the last hour,” he mumbles after a few minutes pass in silence. His voice is rough, not as much so as his modulator makes it, but enough that she knows going to bed soon is probably a really good idea, because this might be a rare occasion where they can get more than five hours of sleep. 

“House of Cards was on,” she points out.

“Good point.”

“Besides, we’re cuddling. Cuddling is very date-appropriate.”

He hums, and his hand moves from its gentle stroke of her spine to settling under her shirt over some of her surgical scars. It still tickles for a moment, the same way he’s told her it does when she runs her fingers over the burn on his lower back. She likes that, likes that they share something no one else can understand. “We don’t get many nights like this.”

“I like these nights,” she muses quietly. 

He says nothing for a long time, and she’s almost at the verge of drifting off when his settled fingers begin dancing across her skin again. “I should clear the take out things away,” he acknowledges with no clear intention to move.

“Leave it,” she tells him through another yawn. “We’ll do it in the morning.”

“What if we get a call?” 

“Then we do it in the evening,” she shifts again, this time burrowing her face further into the crevice of his neck, where everything is him and his scent and his warmth. “We deserve a night off.”

“A night off?” he repeats with a small chuckle. It rumbles through his chest beneath her palm. “What’s that?”

“See, this is why we need one.”

Oliver hums once again, and she’s there again - right on the edge of sleep. She’s moments away from slipping off when his head turns and plants a kiss against her hair. “One more episode then bed?”

She opens one bleary eye to the Netflix menu and immediately closes it again. “I don’t think I’d make it through another one,” she sighs. “I can’t be bothered to move yet, though.”

“I could carry you across the threshold.”

She doubts right now if he’s even got the energy to lift the remote, let alone her. “Romantic.”

“I thought so.”

Her fingers tap against his chest, pushing up from him slightly because they really do need to make it upstairs to bed. Their couch is comfortable enough, but they’ve learned the hard way that it only leads to aching backs. “Hmm, very date appropriate.”

His eyes finally slide open to meet hers, a playfulness overtaking the exhaustion in those blue tones. He sits up with a burst of energy she’s a little jealous of in that moment, and within moments she’s up in his arms, linking her own around his neck instinctively. “Hold onto me tight,” he teases, with a nudge of his nose against hers.

The smile’s there before she even has time to think about it. “Exactly the circumstances I imagined.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, I hope you liked it! I am trying to get back into writing as often as possible, but things haven't been easy recently and I think I may now have a more concrete idea as to why writing suddenly became so hard for me. Any progress is better than none though, and I do like writing about this series and the more "normal" moments of Olicity's life together.  
> If you want to leave any feedback you can also find me on twitter and tumblr under the name of @ghostfoxlovely! I do take prompts through tumblr for this series!  
> Thanks again!


	3. New Normal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I asked for a dialogue prompt, and then announced something. That something was then immediate prompted for the first line of this fic. I’m sorry in advance, but I think we all know by now that I like to incorporate all parts of every day normal boring life into my fics, and this is a shining example of that.

“Oh my god, I think I’m going to have to poop at work today.”

 

The words were so casual, so blasé, that Oliver barely realised what his wife was telling him as he ate his lunch. Now that she was working on her own company and they were both culprits of working later than planned, they’d set up a schedule where at least twice a week they ended up sharing lunch together over the phone and talking while they did. It wasn’t always the full hour, but neither of them were prone to that anyway, but at least it was a nice portion of his day where he could talk to his wife about their day and not be interrupted.

 

So his fork was still in his mouth along with the mouthful of salad he’d carefully prepared that morning when Felicity started talking about bowel movements.

 

He chewed and swallowed slowly before he cleared his throat. “Hon?”

 

“It’s just going to happen, I can feel it.”

 

Yes, so he hasn’t misheard.

 

“I don’t...know how to respond to that,” he told her hesitantly after a few more quiet moments had passed.

 

“It’s irritating,” she sighed. “I prefer to be in the comfort of my own bathroom, you know.” 

 

“Uhh...yes?”

 

There were a lot of things Oliver hadn’t expected when he’d first run away with Felicity, and one of them was how very open she was with her body and its workings. It wasn’t a bad surprise, but it was unexpected. He’d never been in a relationship where that was the norm; probably because he’d never been in a decent healthy relationship. 

 

Through their road trip and eventual settlement he’d learned that Felicity was not only someone who could pee with the door open, but she could do so without the conversation faltering even for a moment. She could prop herself up against the sink and shave her legs while he was trimming the stubble on his jaw. She could give him a “don’t look at me like that, this is normal” when inspecting her nose hair before a formal event. 

 

And now they were married, they talked about poop as well.

 

It couldn’t be avoided. They lived together. Shared a bedroom, a bathroom and a whole life and every bodily function that was a part of it.

 

realistically, after the food poisoning from the Chinese take out place she “loved and trusted” to care for her peanut allergy, but not her stomach lining, it was completely unavoidable.

 

“Don’t you have your own bathroom?” He asked her, leaning into the moment and just deciding this would be one of their quirky days.

 

“I do, but it’s not home, you know.”

 

At that, he couldn’t help the smirk. “Neither was that desk, but we soon christened that.”

 

“We’re not having sex in that bathroom...again.”

 

“I’m not suggesting I’m in the room for any of what needs to happen,” he told her bluntly, hearing her laugh slightly on the other end of the call.

 

But as odd as he finds it, he loves it as well. He loves that she’s so open and comfortable with him that she’ll say any little thing that comes to mind. It’s the same way that the sight of tampons in their bathroom make him smile while William accidentally brushes his hand against the box while unloading groceries and almost runs a mile. It means she’s sharing her life with him. He shares with her in his own way, even though she usually insists there’s no way of hiding when anyone’s been to the bathroom and subsequently went on a rant about his insistence on vegetables while adding six forms of air freshener to their online grocery shop. 

 

She’s still debating the idea of using her office bathroom when he clears his throat. “Just make sure you don’t wait too long,” he told her. “I hear if you wait it out, it travels up to your brain and that’s where crappy ideas come from.”

 

She laughs out loud, the kind of laugh where he knows he’s caught her off guard - his favourite laugh because it’s all his. “That sounds like bullshit.”

 

“Not bull,” he corrected her. “I read it in William’s science paper.”

 

“Nice try, he’s not starting biology for another two weeks.”

 

“Sure, that’s the logical flaw,” he hummed, abandoning the rest of his salad and leaning back in his chair. It was hard to want it when he could hear the rustling of paper wrapping on the other end of the phone call and knew that the lunch he’d packed for her had given way to Big Belly yet again.

 

“Do we still have wine for dinner tonight?” she asked, sideswiping the entire conversation.

 

“We still have two bottles, we’re good for tonight.” Most people had gone with a safe bottle of wine gift for their wedding and they were steadily finding that having that much wine available for bad days was a great reserve to have.

 

“Great,” she breathed a sigh of relief. “I think I’m going to need it.”

 

“Both bottles?”

 

“No,” she chuckled lightly. “Just a couple of glasses. No one needs Wine Felicity on a Thursday night.”

 

“I miss Tequila Felicity,” he added wistfully, knowing she could hear the smile in his voice.

 

“Morning Coffee Felicity banned any future appearance from Tequila Felicity,” she said with a groan. “That crazy woman has no self control.”

 

“Oh, I remember,” he grinned to himself.

 

“Stop thinking dirty thoughts,” she warned him.

 

“I’m always having dirty thoughts about you.”

 


	4. Baby Mine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> myhauntedblacksoul said: There's a pic circulating tumblr of 5 x 01.. But it's where Felicity is pregnant and she's telling Oliver his son is kicking... I need some fluffy goodness in my life right now..

“What’s that face?”

She winces, pressing down on a certain part of her stomach that eases the sharp pain for a moment. She relaxes briefly but her jaw is still tense when she replies to him. “He’s kicking again.”

Oliver’s hand joins hers in an instant, curving around the still-new expanse of her stomach. He’s been obsessed with it, ever since she revealed the pregnancy. He’s been everything a pregnant woman could want in a husband for the last eight months; supportive, but not overbearing. She had expected him to become overprotective, but instead he’s been nothing short of perfect. 

“Everything okay?” he asks her, turning his focus entirely on her. “That’s not your normal ‘kicking’ face.”

Her nose wrinkles as she shakes her head. “He’s lying at a weird angle, so every time he kicks it feels like it’s recoiling against my back.”

“Come here,” Oliver encourages, stretching an arm out towards her even though he’s only lying a mere three inches away.

Felicity relents easily, shuffling closer and easing herself into her favoured position with her leg hooked over his. A sigh escapes her as she feels the relief flow through her lower back as his arm drops around her and the weight of her bump is no longer tugging at her but resting over his body instead. She’s tried a body pillow but it’s nothing compared to curling up around Oliver. “It’s fine, he’ll shift around soon, he never lies like this for long.”

A small hum comes from Oliver. “That’s really amazing, how you know where he is,” he remarks as his hand comes down to stroke over the exposed skin from her shirt riding up.

“It’s really hard to explain, but here,” she takes hold of his hand moves it a few inches to the left and down, pressing it in slightly. 

“What’s that?”

“That’s his butt,” she tells him with an amused smile. 

He can’t help but laugh, and when Felicity laughs along with him the little boy beneath their joined hands seems to shake along with them. “So all this kicking is actually a butt wiggle.”

“Baby boy wants to shake that ass,” she nods.

“Hopefully he’ll get his dancing skills from you and not from me.”

“Or maybe the Queen ‘dad dancing’ is hereditary,” she teases and he has to admit that gives him a mild turn in his stomach.

“I hope not, I had such high hopes for my boy,” he sighs. “I don’t want him to embarrass himself at his first college party.”

“You didn’t dance at college parties,” she points out.

“And look at the trouble it got me into.”

“Good point, I’d really rather only pay for one college, not four.”

He chuckles, although he knows if their child inherits his mother’s brain they’d best start looking into graduate schools and doctorates.

“We should really start saving for that now, in case he takes after you. We might not have as long to save for college as we think we have.”

She hums, and her stomach ripples gently beneath their touch. “Our butt shaking genius baby.”

“I can’t wait to meet him.” Oliver sighs, already so in love with this little boy he’s only felt move beneath his hand. It still amazes him that this little creature kicking his hand is going to grow up to hold his hand crossing the street.

“Not long to go now—- _Whoa_.”

Her stomach doesn’t just shift this time. It rolls. Now that she’s further along in her pregnancy it’s far more noticeable when the baby decides to turn his entire body around within her. It’s as if a wave sweeps over her abdomen, the bump twisting into a bizarre shape before settling back slightly heavier on her left side. 

“That will never stop being weird,” she mutters through her wince, letting out a deep breath as the baby settles once again.

“Goodbye, baby butt,” he announces, tapping where his hand had been that was clearly no longer the baby’s back end.

“Hello, baby toes,” she corrects him.

They settle into a silence, and with the last movement their future son seems to have calmed along with them. Still, every now and then Oliver feels the slight jerk of her stomach where he moves within her. After a few moments of peace, Felicity sinks into him a little more. “I might get some sleep if you’re comfortable there. I get a feeling he’s going to be pretty active tonight.”

“Sure, hon. I’m not going anywhere.”

**Author's Note:**

> You can submit any prompts for the Zephyr series at:  
> http://yespleasehawkeyee.tumblr.com/ask
> 
> Or follow me at  
> @yespleasehawkeyee on tumblr and @ghostfoxlovely on twitter!


End file.
